They Can't Possibly Make A Display Case Large Enough

Anyone with children knows the importance of teaching about "stranger danger" and "improper touching".

We try not to scare our offspring too much, though, we basically tell them that there are monsters lurking around every corner of the playground.

We quiz them on what they should do in certain situations. We reinforce that NO one should touch the body parts that would be covered by a bathing suit.

We do tell them that there are only a few exceptions. We tell them it's okay for mommy and daddy to help them bathe. And we explain that it may be necessary for their pediatrician to touch them during an examination, but that's okay too, and we will be right there with them to keep them safe.

As parents and protectors of the young, we strive to cover all of our bases.

But sometimes you might do too good of a job. And in doing so, you might forget to pass along some eensy winsy bit of information.

W. came home from school on Monday a little later than usual. He had taken the late bus home after signing up for spring sports. He is in 6th grade now and can finally have a crack at something new and exciting. He wants to be a track star.

The day before, I had completed the necessary health forms for the school nurse. The students were to have their physicals after school, which would be performed by the school physician.

Upon W.'s arrival home, I asked him how everything had gone. His expression suddenly changed to a scowl and he said, "Oh, greeeeeat!"

I looked at him, quite puzzled.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Um...you forgot to tell me that the doctor was going to make me....um...cough!"

Oh shit.

I immediately imagined the scenario. The doctor walks in, snaps a rubber glove on his hand, tells my 11 year old to drop his drawers, grabs his junk, and tells him to cough. The look on my son's face must have been priceless.

I'm just so grateful that he didn't slug him.

I bit my lip and tried not to giggle, "W.! I am sooooo sorry!"

He smirked, "I was like, whaaaaaat?!"

I laughed and quickly turned on Mr. Schmitty, "This is your fault! You should have told the poor boy. I mean I'm not equipped with those parts, how would I think to tell him?!"

Pass the buck, I always say.

So, to Mr. Schmitty, I present you with this Parent of the Year Award!

Nevermind Brooke, I'm Going With Molly

Remember this lovely look?

It turned out to be, not a reaction to the Tussionex, but Blepharitis which is an inflammation of the eyelash follicles, along the edge of the eyelid. The cause is overgrowth of the bacteria that is normally found on the skin.

Yea, sounds gruesome but it really wasn't too bad. I just needed to cleanse my eyelid very well, making sure to get close to the eyelash line.

It cleared up in no time.

The other day I was doing some eyebrow maintenance with my trusty, handheld, magnifying mirror. Let me just say, that mirror points out some hideous flaws in this aging skin o'mine. I positioned the mirror at my left eye and.....

WTF?!!!

Now, my children have these GORGEOUS eyelashes. Long and full. I'm green with envy as they apparently did not get them from my genes.

Me? I've got short and sparse. But that's why Cover Girl makes mascara and eyelash curlers.

But back to the mirror. Where was I? Oh yea, WTF?!!!

My eyelashes looked like this:Where the hell did my eyelashes go?!! Emergency! Emergency! Call Brooke Shields. I need me some of that eyelash grower she hocks!!

I googled Blepharitis again. Yup, can cause your eyelashes to fall out. Yippee!

I ran back to the bathroom. I tried to curl. Pathetic. I applied mascara. I had black blobs on my eyelids.

I went back to google and I think I found a solution! This is almost as good as the fountain of youth!

Lashisse from Molly Sims

I Must Just Be A Poor Guesser

Mr. Schmitty and I don't get out much. Babysitters are hard to come by and money is tight. Like us, many of our friends and neighbors are in the same boat.

So, instead of everyone hanging out in front of their own televisions on a Saturday night, we've all decided to get together periodically for game night.

Our game of choice has been Pictionary.

As the children watch the adults make fools of themselves by displaying their victory dances in the faces of their opponents after a win. And as they witness the loud laughter and obnoxious taunting that takes place between the two teams, they begin to whine, "We want to play!!"

A few nights ago, I visited the local Toys R Us and purchased Pictionary Junior.

Hooray for mom!

Mr. Schmitty was scheduled to work an all-nighter. I was to be home alone with the kids all night. What a perfect time to break out the new board game.

As is customary, the teams were girls vs. the boys.

R. was doing pretty well with guessing my drawings. I was actually getting pretty lucky and getting mostly animals, which no matter how poorly drawn, were simple enough to figure out.

Next came my daughter's turn to draw. Now, mind you, she is only 6. She is just beginning to read, so many clues needed to be whispered in her ear by W., as I sat with my fingers in my ears yelling, "La la la la la!"

She grabbed her pencil and the timer was flipped.

She drew a big black circle and colored it in. Then she added a teeny head and some legs.

"A bug!" I yelled. She smiled and shook her head.

"A beetle!" "An ant!" She kept shaking her head.

"A Ladybug!!" Her smile grew and I threw my hand up to give her a high five.

"Time's up!" Shouted W. "Mom, that's not a ladybug, that's not even close to what she had to draw!"

I looked at him, quite puzzled.

"She had to draw a raisin!"
I looked at R. and asked, "Why did you put a head and legs on a raisin?"

"I drew a ladybug."

"But you HAD to draw a raisin."

"Well, I didn't want to, I wanted to draw a ladybug!"

After explaining that she needed to draw what the clue was, we continued.

A few rounds later, it was R.'s turn to draw again. The timer was flipped and she began. I looked down and saw this:


"A cloud!" "Smoke!" "Steam!" "Black!" "Gray!"

She just kept shaking her head.

"Time's up!"

"R. what was it?" I asked.

"A black widow spider!"

A raisin she gives a head and legs but a spider? Nah, THAT she decides doesn't need any.

The Gift of an Ordinary Day

Grab a box of Kleenex and sit back for a while. To all the moms out there:

Clogged Pipes And It's Funny Until Someone Loses An Eye

Things could have been worse. IT could have happened the night before. The night when we had a full house of friends and neighbors.

On Saturday night we hosted an impromptu game night at our house. We invited some families, threw together some food, and uncorked some wine.

The adults settled in the living room and sent the kids all off to play. We divided into boys men against the women and took turns tormenting each other as we played Pictionary. It was a riot!

Sunday morning, as Mr. Schmitty relaxed in his "office", IT happened. He flushed and water began to pour out from underneath the toilet.

"Shit!" No, no, not shit.....I mean, "Dammit!"

After calling in a guy, it was determined that a clog was causing the back up. A back up that was now invading the downstairs bathtub as well.

Great, on the kid's bath night too.

The kids....hmmmm...I wonder. While their parents boozed it up playing games and drawing inappropriate images on a child's easel, did they shove something down the toilet? Did someone use too many butt wipes or did someone try to flush a freaking Zhu Zhu Pet?

Well, we can't prove anything, unless of course we find a battery operated hamster. But I couldn't think of that now. I had to get the kids cleaned up before school the next day.

I packed up some clothes, toiletries, and towels. The four of us headed to my mother's while Mr. Schmitty stayed behind to deal with our plumbing issues.

A few years ago we needed a new hot water heater. Instead of installing a new one, we opted for the "tankless water heater". It gives you hot water on demand. It.is.tré.awesome!

I forgot what it's like to run out of hot water, so at my mom's, I didn't even give it a thought. W. took his shower first. Done. T. got in and as he was getting out he complained that the water was getting cold.

I looked at my daughter. She looked like pigpen. Plus, I too, was smelling quite ripe.

I decided to sit and wait a while until the tank filled again. If I planned on my own shower, she and I were going to have to get in there together so we could really move it.

It was getting late and I wanted to get the kids home. I tested the water a short while later and we had warmth. I stripped the girl and myself and jumped in.

I lathered up our hair and wouldn't you know it. YUP! Ice cubes practically began to spurt out of the shower head.

Poor R. began to whine and shake. My nipples turned into deadly weapons and were ready to take my daughter's eyes out.

I had to do it. I grabbed her, tossed her head forward, and like lightning rinsed all of the shampoo out of her hair. I wrapped her tightly in two towels, set her down, and flipped on the heater.

I then dove in to rinse out my own hair. By the time I was done my head hurt and I swore I had frozen my brain into a solid block of ice.

After we thawed, I loaded up the minivan and we headed home.

The guy was still there. He had reached the clog with his tools, however, it wasn't coming undone. He would have to bring in the big guns and it wasn't going to be cheap.

He, nonchalantly, suggested we rent a machine from our local Home Depot instead.

As I am typing this, Mr. Schmitty is using said machine. I hope he hurries up, I'm gonna have to poop at some point and I refuse to use the litter pan.